


be still, my foolish heart

by gaygentdanvers



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/F, Falling In Love, Friends With Benefits, Happy Ending, Office Sex, POV Second Person, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 09:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18465772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaygentdanvers/pseuds/gaygentdanvers
Summary: Confession: you think that you are a little bit in love with Alex Danvers. This is very much a problem.





	be still, my foolish heart

and i appreciate your patience, while you stand here, right in front of me. waiting for me to come to my senses.

  
— _pleasefindthis._

 

 

It’s a windy, cold afternoon, and your scarf is wrapped so tight around your throat that you have to adjust it to breathe, tugging it away from your neck. The ground is stiff, frozen under your heels, and it’s a miracle that you don’t slip and fall right on your ass as you make your way inside L-Corp, flashing a polite smile to Jess on your way to the elevators.

 

You’re halfway there when you hear Jess call out after you, frantic, “Oh, Miss Luthor! Director Danvers stopped by this morning. I tried to explain to her that you weren’t in yet and she would have to make an appointment, but—”

 

“It’s alright, Jess,” you cut her off quickly, waving away her rambling concerns. You’ve known for several years now that neither of the Danvers women pay any mind to your busy schedule, and by now, you can’t deny that you’re quite used to it. “I assume she’s up there now?”

 

At Jess’s nod, you can’t help but feel… _something,_ spark in your chest. Anxiety, maybe, wondering what the older Danvers sister wants from you. Excitement, probably, knowing exactly what she _could_ want.  

 

Sure enough, Alex Danvers is standing in your office when you blow through the heavy doors, taking off your scarf. She’s leaning calmly against your desk, casually spinning a long tactical knife between her fingers, hair slicked back but still managing to fall into her eyes in all its messy, butch glory.

 

“Director,” you greet, approaching her slowly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

At that, Alex rolls her eyes, and you can’t help but do the same in return. There’s a small smirk playing on her lips, just barely noticeable, as she pushes herself off your desk and shoves her knife into her boot before crossing her arms.

 

Surely, you think for a brief second, it’s _Alex_ that should be the Kryptonian sister, because the look she gives you feels like it could burn through you more than Kara’s heat vision ever could.

 

“Would you like a drink?” you ask, already moving towards the liquor cabinet across the room. The clanking of your heels against the floor sound deafening to your ears as you walk, the rest of the office filled with silence.

 

“Tempting offer, if Kara wasn’t forcing me to cut back,” Alex remarks from behind you, “But we both know I’m not here for the alcohol anyways, Lena.”

 

You stop; your hand is hovering in the air, reaching halfway towards the liquor bottle, and your fingers curl into a loose fist as your arm drops to your side. You nod, slowly, calmly. “Yes. We do.”

 

Only a few seconds pass, perhaps no more than five, before you feel hot puffs of breath against the back of your neck. Immediately, every hair on your body seems to stand up, and a shiver goes down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold weather outside.

 

A hand, the palm rough and the fingertips calloused, comes up to your shoulder, brushing your hair away, and a pair of soft lips come down to press against the side of your neck soon after that. Your eyes fall shut automatically, a light exhale falling from your lips, and you lean back into the touch. Truth be told, you’ve missed this, while she’s been too busy with work at the DEO.

 

But, “I have a conference call in ten minutes.”

 

“So skip it,” Alex responds immediately, lips trailing from your neck to your ear, teeth tugging lightly on your earlobe. You nearly groan at the feeling, a hand coming up to slide through Alex’s hair.

 

“I won’t just skip an important conference call because you want to indulge in your _ridiculous_ office sex fantasies,” you retort. Alex huffs out a laugh against your skin, shaking her head, and then her head is pulling back and you can’t help but miss the contact as you turn around to face her.

 

“That’s not what you said the last time,” she reminds you, eyes dark and gleaming, a sharp eyebrow raised. You cock an eyebrow right back at her, challenging.

 

She backs down after just a few moments, raising her hands in surrender. “This conversation isn’t over, you know.”

 

“Well of course not,” you reply, leaning forward. Your lips barely touch hers, just enough to be teasing before you pull away again, nodding your head towards the door. Alex takes the hint with ease, smirking at you once again before turning on her heel and walking out.

 

“Don’t expect me to make an appointment next time I come by,” she says before she leaves, her head still poking through the door of your office. You only shoo her away with your hand as you sit down at your desk, ignoring the indignant roll of her eyes.

 

“Jess?” you call out through the intercom as soon as the door shuts behind her. “Make sure Director Danvers has access to my office any time she wants, with or without an appointment, please.”  

 

 

* * *

 

 

Confession one: you aren’t usually like this, allowing anyone besides Kara unlimited access into your office, but you don’t think you mind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

This is how it starts, two months prior—

 

You are lying together on the couch in your office, bodies pressed flush against each other, and you are both half-undressed. Alex’s hand moves teasingly between your thighs, most likely relishing in the feeling of your Louis Vuitton heel digging into her calf. In your mind’s eye, you can already see the bruise that’ll form there, a light grey tinged with purple, something Alex will probably blame on DEO training if Kara dares to ask.

 

Her free hand comes down to hold you against the couch cushions when you start bucking your hips up in order to gain some type of friction, and Alex must see the way your jaw clenches, teeth grinding in frustration, her fingertips just barely brushing against the spot where she knows you want her.

 

Alex only smirks before pressing the two fingers a little deeper inside of you, exploring.

 

“Shit,” you gasp out, mouth falling open.

 

“Were you thinking of me the whole meeting?” Alex asks, tone teetering on the edge of being taunting, and a spike of heat goes through you. “Thinking about my fingers inside you, about my head between your legs…”

 

“You’re not going to get me to beg,” you snap. “Is that what you’re waiting for?”

 

It’s not; you’re well aware that Alex already knows that you have never been the type to beg, not for anything, and especially not for her.

 

“Of course not,” she responds, leaning down to suck at your neck, teeth scraping against the skin there and making your breath catch in your throat.

 

Your grip turns knuckle white on Alex’s forearm as two skilled fingers enter you fully in one swift thrust, a thumb circling your swollen clit. You arch your back against the couch, buck your hips up into Alex’s hand, your face and neck burning. When Alex presses into you just right, fingers curling, you pull your bottom lip in between your teeth and suppress a moan.

 

A few minutes later, Alex cleans off her dripping fingers with her tongue, heat only sparking in your core once again as you watch her. Then, she stands up and straighten her clothes out, eyes darting around the office for the leather jacket she’d hastily discarded somewhere by the door.

 

You linger there on the couch, watching Alex intensely, your dress bunched up around your waist and your chest still heaving slightly from your orgasm.

 

Secretly, you hate these moments. The goodbye, when reality abruptly takes hold once more, and you both must each remind yourselves of how things are supposed to be outside this office.

 

“It was a pleasure, Director,” you say with a satisfied smirk, adjusting your clothes.

 

You can spot the beginning of a hickey blooming on Alex’s throat, just under her jaw, from when you had put it there in the beginning of your rendezvous. She only rolls her eyes at the statement. From your spot still sprawled out on the couch, you huff out a kind of laugh, entire body still somehow burning with desire.

 

“Until next time?” she checks as she slips her arms through the sleeves of her jacket, and it’s only then that you realize this has become a sort of regular thing, the two of you getting together like this.

 

“Until next time,” you confirm with a short nod.

 

When she leaves, the door shutting heavily behind her, you can hardly breathe.

 

Next time, you’d said _._ You don’t quite know when this became a reoccurring thing with you, meeting up with Alex like this. After the first time, you had thought that’d be the end of it. Just something to quell the sexual tension between you before you both moved on with your lives.

 

And yet—

 

_Next time._

 

You still remember her, from months ago, before this… _thing_ between you two even began. The way she approached your desk, slowly and so, so sure of herself — much like the confident, stoic director you see so often in the DEO, but so unlike Kara’s oblivious, flustered sister that can barely tell when a woman is flirting with her at the bar.

 

[You won’t even attempt to pretend that you don’t notice those women at the bar, draping themselves over the redhead and still leaving without so much as a number, or even a drink added to Alex’s own tab.

 

Sometimes, you let yourself wonder if perhaps she really does know what’s going on, but has simply decided to ignore the blatant attention, but you shut those thoughts down immediately. It’s a dangerous game, imagining those kinds of things.]

 

In your office, Alex had stepped so close to you that you could feel the heat from her body, and you had felt it then; your shared interest in each other, sparking in unison like a match, the tension between you hot and heavy in the room.

 

And you remember the way Alex had leaned forward, lips just slightly brushing against your jaw, breath hot against your ear. “I want you,” she’d said, pulling away with dark eyes. “And… I think you want me too.”

 

And just like that, you could see the hesitance return to her eyes as she pulled back, a bit of her earlier confidence slipping away as you stood there in silence. You felt as though your whole body was on fire with the way she pulled her lip between her teeth, staring at you with an intensity like no other.

 

The first time you two fucked after that bold confession, it was nearly two weeks later and she had you pressed up against the glass windows in your penthouse with her fingers buried inside you, muffling screams into her shoulder.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Confession two: she is the first and only person to ever take you like that, so easily, so _fully,_ and it is the first and only time you let it happen without any hesitance at all.

  

 

* * *

 

 

Always true to her word, Alex doesn’t let your conversation in the office from earlier go unfinished. She turns up at L-Corp again later that night, around two in the morning, when you’re the only one left in the building aside from L-Corp’s many night time security guards and its cleaning crew.

 

You’re not surprised in the slightest that she knew you’d still be here working, nor are you surprised to see her still clad in her DEO uniform, implying she’d just gotten off work herself.

 

That’s one of the many things you two have in common, you’ve realized over the past few months. You both prefer work over sleep.

 

“Welcome back,” you say as she walks in. “I assume you missed me, then?”

 

“Mmm,” she hums, coming up to wrap her arms around your waist and pull you closer. You relish in the feeling of her holding you close, of her hands splayed across your lower back and drifting down, down, down… “As a matter of fact, I did,” she admits, before leaning forward and pressing her lips against yours.

 

Kissing Alex Danvers, you think as you pull her closer, is the epitome of what you assume it feels like to be in Heaven.

 

“Want to go back to my place?” she asks in between kisses. You nod; you’ve never been over to Alex’s own apartment before, mostly because she’s never invited you until now.

 

“Let me grab my things.”

 

The ride to Alex’s is quick despite being halfway across the city, with you instructing your driver to take the shortcuts that Alex tells you about. In the backseat, Alex’s hand is on your thigh, and you’re kissing her neck, feeling smooth skin against your lips. Anticipation builds in your chest for what’s to come when you finally get there, already remembering the way Alex has felt against you the last time, and the sounds she had made.

 

You stay that way until the car pulls up in front of Alex’s apartment building. You pull apart from each other as you step out, braving the cold in just your dress as Alex’s hand comes back to press against your back, leading you until you come to a stop at the end of a long hallway.

 

“This is me.” She walks in and drops the keys on the table next to the door, with you following close behind.

 

The first thing you notice when you walk in is that Alex Danvers’ apartment is shockingly bare.

 

It’s also remarkably tidy, at least, the only mess consisting of papers strewn out across the kitchen bar, with a small notebook and a pens sitting beside an empty mug that Alex hasn’t yet cleaned up. You assume she’d been up late the night before; mostly because you’ve heard enough of Kara’s concerned rants to know that Alex takes her work home with her.

 

Through the window, you can hear the sounds of the city from below, blaring sirens and traffic and dogs barking. Alex stands a few feet away, watching you carefully as you take her apartment in.

 

You don’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t this. If anything, it looks more like your own place, with its sparseness. Not because you believed Alex Danvers to be fun and colorful, but you’d assumed that Kara would definitely not let this slide. She’d do something about it herself, filling the place with her own colorful decorations and art like her own studio apartment. Even the furniture are muted colors, various shades of grey and black, the walls barren save for a mirror and a painting hanging above the bed. You stand in front of the bookshelf, fingertips gliding over the spines, each of the books having something to do with science; you can’t help but smile slightly to yourself at that.

 

On the table beside the front door sits a lone house plant, the leaves brown and wilting at the edges as though Alex had forgotten to care for it. It’s devastatingly pathetic in its desperation to brighten up the apartment, and you look back at Alex with raised brows.

 

“Kara got that for me,” she explains with an apologetic wince towards the sister that isn’t physically here, as if Kara somehow knows her gift is quickly approaching its deathbed. She scratches the back of her neck and you watch her, a sheepish smile slowly spreading across her face.

 

“Well, I’m certainly not here to judge you for your dying plants,” you assure her, coaxing a small laugh from the other woman.

 

You step closer to bridge the gap between you two, a hand coming up to cup a sharp, strong jawline, fingertips brushing over Alex’s cheek. The tension in the room is suddenly heavy enough to crush both of you, and you lean forward, your lips just barely touching the shell of her ear.

 

“How bad do you want me, Director?” you whisper boldly, tone leaking the kind of confidence that you know drives her wild. That’s your thing, after all; you, the billionaire CEO of L-Corp, and her, the Director of the DEO. Both so important, both so powerful; both knowing it.

 

As expected, the words seem to do it for her. She inhales sharply, and you’re standing so close together that you can feel her chest expand with every breath. “Lena…” It comes out almost like a groan, almost like a plea as she tilts her head forward. The moment your lips touch again, something in you seems to snap. You can feel the heat forming in your core, and your hands find hers as you walk backwards, pulling her along with a smirk.

 

She lets you guide her wordlessly to the bed, the sounds of National City still loud from outside the window, the sounds of her gasps and moans even louder in your ear.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I think Alex is seeing someone,” Kara tells you one afternoon over lunch, and you promptly choke on your salad.

 

It’s been months since that first time, in your penthouse, and a meager few days since the last time, in her own apartment. And Kara, bless her heart, has always been as oblivious as her sister, if not more so when it came to these things; so hearing the question leave your best friend’s mouth catches you off guard in a way you rarely ever are.

 

[Your mind goes automatically to the ‘meeting’ you had with Alex in her office at the DEO just that morning, and suddenly you’re all too aware of the bruises on your chest, perfectly hidden by a blouse that, for once, does not show your cleavage.]

 

“Pardon?” you ask, still coughing slightly, face and neck warm from your brief slip-up.

 

Kara shrugs, cheeks slightly puffed out from the food still in her mouth as she repeats herself, “I think Alex is seeing someone. She seems… happier, lately. It’s weird.”

 

You raise an eyebrow, trying to ignore the strange feeling in your chest that comes with the implication that your hookups are making Alex happy.

 

“Weird?” you ask, confused at Kara’s shock. Because yes, of course, Alex can be a stoic, intimidating government director — but you have also seen her gush over results in the lab, and there have been times where you both are lying naked and sated in bed after another one of your rendezvous, full on _laughing_ as she tells you about all the foolish ways she’s gotten some of her scars over the years.

 

Kara holds up her hands in front of her, shaking her head. “No, no, I just mean— You know, she and Maggie, and then everything that went down with Sam…”

 

Right. You already know the breakup with Maggie had taken a toll on the older Danvers, and you’d watched from the sidelines as Alex and Sam had gotten closer and closer before Reign happened and Sam left for Metropolis.

 

But it’s been almost a year, since then.

 

“I just worry about her, I guess,” Kara continues, waving her hand uselessly in the air as she takes another bite of food. “But now she doesn’t seem as sad anymore…”

 

You like to think that you are pretty good at controlling your expression — being raised as a Luthor, you’ve had enough practice with hiding your emotions, after all. So you hope that your expression doesn’t give away your thoughts, and thank any God up there that Kara is a Kryptonian and not a telepathic Martian.

 

“Why hasn’t she said anything to me?” she asks, her tone heavy with a sadness that can only come from her sister keeping secrets from her.

 

 _Maybe because it’s about her sex life with your best friend,_ you think, hoping Kara can’t hear your heart rate increase at the mere thought. You wish you could tell her. If it were anyone else, Kara would be the first to know who you have started seeing — can you even call it that? You don’t know. You’ve never been in this situation before — and you know that’s the case for Alex as well.

 

“I’m sure she’ll tell you when she’s ready, sweetie,” you assure Kara aloud, reaching your hand across the table and resting it stop hers. She smiles softly at you and nods to herself, and you feel better now that a bit of the sadness in her eyes is gone.

 

 

 

* * *

  

 

Confession three: at one point in your friendship, you had thought that you and Kara might possibly end up together. Now, you can’t help but be glad that wasn’t the case.

 

 

* * *

 

Your thighs brush between the sheets of your bed, silk and firm skin mixing and sending chills up your spine. You breathe in, out, and your heart slows, only for Alex to lean down and kiss you again.

  
Even after all this time, you’re not quite used to it yet; the warmth from her lips to yours, an overwhelming rush. There’s the pounding heartbeat, the tingling lips, the forever changing colours behind your eyelids — a sense that travels throughout you, and something you can't quite remember that steadily beats at the back of your head.

 

“Kara suspects you’re seeing someone,” you tell Alex, suddenly, and she stops kissing you.

 

“What?” Her eyes are wide, full of panic, and, “Does she know it’s—“

 

“No,” you reassure her. “She just knows you’re seeing someone. She doesn’t know it’s _me_ you’re seeing.”

 

“Oh,” Alex breathes out, relieved. Then, eyes widening once more, she looks at you and holds out her hands in front of her, shaking her head, “Not that that would be a bad thing, for her to know it’s you, I mean— it’s just, you know— I’m her sister, and you’re her best friend, and… I mean, it’d be _weird_ , right?”

 

“Yes, it would be,” you agree, however there’s an odd ache blossoming in the center of your chest, wrapping around your ribs.

 

She nods, and then leans down to kiss you again; after a few moments, the ache in your chest dulls, and an ache of a different kind soon forms between your thighs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Alex calls you Lena, and sometimes just Luthor. You only call her Director.  

 

The first time you really call her _Alex,_ it’s five months into sleeping together. The name slips past your lips without you even realizing it at first, your nails scratching down her back just hard enough to split open her skin and make her bleed. She hisses in your ear, both in pain and in pleasure, and thrusts the strap-on even harder into you, hitting the spot inside of you _just_ _right_.

 

The feeling of Alex so deep inside you, _filling_ you so deliciously, so completely, is almost overwhelming. You have never felt like this before, writhing underneath a strong, toned body, the hot, wet sounds of your fucking seeming to echo in the otherwise quiet room.

 

“Come on,” Alex tells you, hand drifting down to rub circles around your clit, pressing down and flicking it so you cry out at the sensation. “Let go for me, Lena.”

 

And you do— oh, you do.

 

You come harder than you ever have with her before, the pleasure rolling over you in waves, and you cling to Alex as though your life depends on it. She continues to pound into you even as you come, slowing down just a bit to help you ride out your orgasm, and the next thing to fall from your mouth is,

 

“Oh, God, _Alex!”_

 

It’s only when she’s nearly collapsed on top of you, panting into your neck, that you realize what you’d said, and Alex has too, if the knowing, infuriating smirk on her face is of any indication.

 

“You called me Alex.”

 

The shocked statement is said with so much cockiness mixed in that you have to hold in a scoff, her eyes twinkling with something you can’t quite place.

 

You roll your eyes at her, attempting to brush it off as not a big deal as you push her off you. She rolls over without any resistance, flopping down on the other side of the bed and undoing the leather straps from around her waist. “So I did,” you agree, hoping she'll let it go and you can discuss something else.

 

But Alex Danvers is not one to let things go so easily. “So Lena Luthor _does_ know my name,” she teases, smirk slowly spreading into a smug grin as your eyes narrow dangerously.

 

“Has anyone ever told you that smugness is unattractive, Director Danvers?” you shoot back, crossing your arms over your chest. You probably look ridiculous, still lying naked in Alex’s bed and practically glaring at her.

 

Alex’s grin only widens as she looks back at you. You roll your eyes again, fighting off the small smile of your own that attempts to break through and betray your true feelings about the matter.

 

 _Infuriating,_ you think, and slip out of bed to gather your clothes.

 

“Don’t think I’ll forget about this,” Alex calls out teasingly as you shrug on your jacket — dark red, leather, a favorite of hers; it’s why you chose to wore it today.

 

“Don’t think it’ll happen again, _Director,_ ” you retort, dragging out the the title to emphasize your point.

 

Her laugh follows you out the door.

 

It does end up happening again, inevitably. And again. And again. For the next few weeks, it’s all you can do, her name coming in the form of moans and screams, in the form of commands, and even, occasionally, in the form of _pleas_.

 

This time, however, it is completely on purpose. It becomes somewhat of a habit, if you could even call it one — mainly due to the fact that you’ve found that when you say her name, Alex tends to fuck you harder because of it.

 

You ask her about it one day, coming down from your orgasm, why she seems to enjoy it so much.

 

“I guess I just like the sound of powerful women screaming my name,” is her reply, wiping her chin with the back of her hand and grinning. “Especially if that powerful woman is you.”

 

Suddenly, the look in her eyes goes from teasing to serious, and it’s so intense that you have to force yourself to look away.

 

There is a warm feeling in your chest, spreading outwards and enveloping your entire body, and you clear your throat. Somehow, there is a big difference between hearing Alex praise you like that and hearing Kara do it. Deep down you know it’s because, unlike Kara with her childlike optimism, Alex Danvers is not the type to see the good in every single person. She does not look at someone and immediately believe that they are more than their tarnished family name, that they are ultimately a good person despite what they have been made out to be— and yet…

 

 _Stupid_ , you cut your own thoughts short. You’re being stupid, taking this all to heart as you are.

 

“Quiet,” you say to her, smacking her on the shoulder and scoffing as if to say, _yeah right._

 

“Just take the compliment, Luthor,” Alex argues with an indignant roll of her eyes, seeing right through you. “Cut the shit. You deserve respect, alright? You’ve sure as hell earned mine.”

 

She doesn’t seem to realize the true, genuine weight of her words. A hand comes down to rest on your bare thigh, palm warm, fingers pressing down and squeezing lightly. And there it is — a shift between you, almost microscopic, barely noticeable if you weren’t already so hyper-focused on Alex Danvers.

 

“You weren’t fond of me in the beginning, were you?” you can’t help but ask, rolling over to face her. Her expression shifts into one of confusion, until you clarify, “When Kara and I first became friends.”

 

“I…” She hesitates, seeming to be choosing her words carefully. “Honestly? No, I wasn’t… too sure of you at first. But I didn’t know you then. I know you now.”

 

“Do you?”

 

You don’t know what compels you to ask the question; perhaps it’s the nagging at the back of your head, the itch that’s begging to be scratched, the need to know if this is something more than just what some would call _fuck buddies._

 

“I’d like to think I do,” Alex answers honestly, nodding. “I _want_ to.”

 

You look at her and her eyes are so soft, her voice so gentle, that you feel like a part of you is cracking open underneath your skin.

 

“I have a meeting at one,” you tell her abruptly, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and standing carefully. They somehow still feel like jelly, weak and shaky from your orgasm, but you ignore it as you cross the room looking for your heels. You don’t understand why your heart is beating so rapidly inside your chest.

 

“Lena, wait,” Alex calls out, and your name is said with so much warmth that you feel a jolt go through you. Still, you do not risk turning around.

 

This time, when you leave her apartment, you feel dark brown eyes boring into the back of your head.

 

 

* * *

 

 

You call Sam as soon as you get inside your car, leaning back against the leather seats and watching the city go by through the window. It’s raining, and you focus on the tiny droplets racing down the glass and merging into each other as Sam’s voice filters through the phone.

 

“You left because she basically said she wanted to know more about you?” she’s saying, incredulous. “You’re being ridiculous, Lena.”

 

“Am I?” you snap, a hand pressing against your forehead.

 

There’s a brief pause before Sam says, “ _Yes_. You are,” and sighs heavily. You hear some commotion in the background, shooting sounds and screaming, and you figure Ruby must be playing video games.

 

“Look, Lena. I knew Alex for almost a year, and… we got pretty close. I know that she wouldn’t have said that if she didn’t mean it. And I’ve known _you_ for longer than that, so I also know that that’s not the only reason you’re so scared right now.”

 

“I’m not _scared—_ ” you scoff, but Sam doesn’t let you finish, interrupting you with a firm, ”You are, and that’s okay.”

 

“I’m not,” you argue, insistent. You feel almost like a petulant child talking back to their mother, but Sam only huffs out a small laugh.

 

“Okay, Lena. Well, let’s try this then. _Hypothetically_ ,“ she says, dragging out the word, “if you _were_ scared, it would be because obviously this is more than just a few hookups to you. It’s something more than that, isn’t it?”

 

You blink, truly taken aback. Sam has always been well-rounded and logical when it comes to things like this, despite not having much experience in this field herself. But, “Sam. Alex and I have sex—“

 

You can practically hear her eyes roll. “Yeah, you do.“

 

“—but that doesn’t mean it has to become anything more.”

 

There’s another pause over the line. You can still hear Ruby shouting things in the background, and the sound of something sizzling in a pan. Sam must be talking on the phone while cooking dinner. Outside the window, you can see L-Corp’s tall building come into view through the blur of rain, and the car slowly pulls to a stop.

 

“You’re right, it doesn’t. But it’s obvious that she wants it to, one way or another. The question is do _you_ want it to?” she finally asks, just as you’re stepping out of the car and nodding politely to the driver as he shuts the door behind you.

 

“Of course I—” _Don’t_ is what you mean to say, but the words get caught in your throat. Somewhere in the back of your head, there’s a voice chanting _do, do, do,_ but you don’t say it aloud.

 

“I don’t,” you finally manage to spit out, but it sounds weak even to your own ears.

 

And to your dismay, Sam, observant as she is, immediately picks up on it. “Seriously, Lena, I wouldn’t blame you if you did. Alex is a wonderful person, and if you had to fall in love with anybody, it should be her.”

 

You nearly choke on air, sputtering as you grip the phone tighter in your hand as you head towards your office. The words nearly make you stop in your tracks, every part of you cold. “Excuse me?”

 

“Lena—“

 

“I am _not_ in love with Alex.”

 

The words feel strange coming out of your mouth, like they are not meant to be said. You swallow the acidic feeling climbing up your throat and unlock your office door. It only takes you a few quick strides to make it to your desk, dropping down onto the chair just as you feel your knees practically give out.

 

“Why would you say that?” you ask, even though you already know the answer.

 

“Lena, you know me. You know that I went through the same thing before I moved here to Metropolis. I’ve literally been there _,_ done that. You can’t possibly tell me you don’t at least have some potential feelings for Alex that you might not want to admit to yourself right now.“

 

Something in your chest seems to tighten. You grip at the edge of your desk, inhaling deeply through your nose. “No,” you shake your head, despite the fact that Sam can’t see you. “No, it’s just sex, and I don’t want it to be anything more than that.”

 

The words taste bitter on your tongue, like a lie so often does, and you know Sam can see right through your bullshit anyways.

 

Your heart pounds even faster in your chest, and you reach for the bottle of whiskey you keep under your desk rather than in the liquor cabinet for easier reach; this conversation has been a long time coming, and you can’t have it sober.

 

“Then why did you call me, totally freaking out?” Sam argues, as you pour yourself the first shot. “I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen you freak out. You wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t so urgent. Seriously, Lena, for once, just let yourself be happy. Let yourself love Alex—“

 

“Whoa, wait, Aunt Lena is in love with Alex?” you hear Ruby exclaim somewhere in the background, suddenly much closer to the phone than she was moments before. Your face reddens at the implication that she’s been listening in on your phone call, and you down another shot, focusing on the burn it leaves in your chest.

 

“No, I’m not,” you say into the phone, just as Sam says, “Yes, she is.”

 

“She’s in denial right now, Rubes,” Sam says, her voice muffled as though she’s covering the phone with her hand. You knock your head against the edge of your desk.

 

“I am _not_ in love with her!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Confession four: you think that you _are_ a little bit in love with Alex Danvers. This is very much a problem.

 

 

* * *

 

The revelation brings with it only a deep, cold sense of dread, the kind that seems to seep right into your skin, through your flesh, and chill you to the bone. You have never been in love before, and you have decided that the feeling is absolutely terrifying.

 

Here’s the thing — you’ve liked Alex from the first moment you saw her; which is to say that you’ve liked Alex since she saved you from Lex’s hired mercenary the day you announced your plans to rename Luthorcorp. She had gone all in, without a moment’s hesitation — and although you knew it was merely because it’s part of her job description to do so, to keep people safe, you still found yourself speechless at the fact that someone, for once, cared enough to try and protect _you,_ a Luthor.

 

It almost seemed too good to be true, walking into Kara’s apartment later that day to see Alex sitting there, donning a red sweater that made her look impossibly soft, much softer than she did fighting with John Corben just hours before.

 

_Hey, I know you. You saved my life._

 

The words had left your mouth sounding like something akin to awe, and you’re not too afraid to admit that you were, at the time. Still are, if you’re being completely honest.

 

 _Special Agent Alex Danvers, FBI,_ she’d said, her hand warm as it shook yours. And she’d smiled then, eyes locked onto yours. It was only the tiniest of moments; not even a heartbeat, but you were instantly charmed, something that hasn’t happened to you since Jack.

 

So, yes— you’ve liked Alex Danvers for the entirety of knowing her, but this? This is not that. This is something deeper; you are entirely out of your element here.

 

You are not used to not being in control, but you know your heart has already jumped out of your chest and into Alex Danvers’ hands, and you also know that there is nothing you can do about it.

 

So instead, you avoid her for days.

 

It’s not completely on purpose — you’re the CEO of a multi-billion company, you’re a busy woman — but you can’t blame it all on work.

 

It’s on the fourth consecutive day of avoiding her that she finally bursts into your office as you’re on a call with a potential investor, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in question.

 

“I sincerely apologize, something has just come up. I’ll have to call you back,” you say into the phone, shooting her a pointed glare as you hang up. “May I ask what you’re doing, entering my office like this while I’m on a call?”

 

“You’re avoiding me,” Alex states, getting straight to the point. “Why?”

 

“Who said anything about avoidance?” You look away, towards your computer, and Alex huffs. “I’ve been busy. I _do_ have a company to run, Alex.”

 

“Funny you say that, when we fucked on that couch over there just last week.”

 

You roll your eyes at that, but Alex only stares at you, wearing an expectant expression. You know she’s waiting for an explanation that you’re not going to give. “My apologies for not having the time to have sex whenever you call, Director.”

 

Alex just purses her lips, eyes narrowed at you, and you suddenly feel like you’re in her lab at the DEO, sitting under her microscope as she examines you. “Is this because of what I said the other day? Because look, Lena, if you want this to just be about hooking up, then fine. I won’t push you into anything you’re not comfortable with. But you cannot _possibly_ be angry with me for caring enough to want to know you.”

 

“I’m not angry with you,” you assure her quickly, rising from your chair in order to be level with her. She’s frowning, eyebrows pulled together and forming creases on her forehead, and you sigh. “I’m not angry,” you repeat.

 

“You’re not?” Alex asks, surprised and slightly less confrontational now than she was a few moments ago.

 

“I’m not,” you confirm, rounding your desk and coming to a stop in front of her. She uncrosses her arms and lets them fall to her side, biting down on her bottom lip, suddenly looking unsure and apprehensive, a stark contrast to her demeanor when she first stormed into your office. “And if you’d like this to be something more, it can be.”

 

“Good.” Alex smiles, soft and warm. “Because believe it or not, Luthor, I’d like to think that you and I are friends.”

 

 _Friends._ Yes, that’s what she wants. That’s _all_ she wants, and you have to be okay with that.

 

“I’m sorry for avoiding you.”

 

“So you admit it,” she says, coaxing a small laugh from deep in your chest, despite yourself.

 

“I do. And I very much regret it,” you admit, stepping closer. Her hands go to your hips almost automatically, and you sigh, leaning into the touch. “I’m sorry,” you say again.

 

Alex shrugs a shoulder, looking up at you with a thoughtful expression. “Well, luckily for you, there is _one_ way you could repay me…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

By the first orgasm, Alex is already well past the point of forgiving you, but you make sure to give her two more for good measure.

 

After all, what are friends for?

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

After several months of sleeping together, you like to think that you and Alex both have gotten quite used to each other; there’s a certain dynamic that you have that you try to keep, and specific “rules” that you both follow. There’s trust between you that you both know you cannot break, only ever trying things the other is comfortable with.

 

Over time, you’ve learned most of what Alex likes, and what she doesn’t. You’ve become intimately familiar with the toys she enjoys the most, and the positions that she prefers, and the things that will always make her come, no matter what.

 

But there is one rule that you both follow more closely than anything else, and that’s regarding the power dynamic between you.

 

Just as Alex is not allowed to fully dominate you, you are not allowed to fully dominate her. It’s how this thing between you works — neither of you fully submitting to the other. It’s a perfect balance every time, and you both like it that way.

 

But then—

 

Alex, standing in the doorway of your penthouse, still clad in her DEO uniform, looking more tired than you have ever seen her. It is not often that Alex Danvers allows other people to see how worn out she is, and it is an even rarer sight, the redness of her guilt-ridden, bloodshot eyes.

 

You already know what had happened; Kara had told you about it earlier this afternoon, that there was a mission gone wrong and Alex had lost several agents to something that could have been so easily prevented.

 

And if there is one person in this world who blames themself for things out of their control more than you, it is her.

 

“Would you like a change of clothes?” you ask her as she steps inside, already heading towards your wardrobe. A hand on your wrist stops you, though, and when you turn to face Alex once again, you see the way her eyes repeatedly shift from you to the bed, back and forth.

 

“I— I just need—“ She cuts off, swallowing hard.

 

You step closer, bringing a hand up to the back of her neck, fingers brushing against the shaved hair there. “Alex—“

 

“I need something different,” she finally manages to tell you, and something in her eyes change. They’re harder, now, more focused on you. “From you.”

 

You sit there for a long time after she tells you, just simply looking at her. Trying to make sure this is something she truly, desperately wants — something she _needs_ — from you rather than mere impulsivity on her part, something she will surely regret later.

 

There has never been a time that you can remember where Alex Danvers has willingly given up every bit of her control; where she had placed all the power into another person’s hands and let ecstasy take over. You have never seen Alex Danvers trust in someone so fully, to give up her authority and instead take on the role of compliance.

 

But she is here now, and she is asking for it, and, well, who are you to refuse her in a time of need?

 

“Okay,” you tell her, rising slowly. “Yes. I can do that for you.”

 

As you lead her to the bed, your heart pounds so hard you’re afraid it might break right through your ribs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

This isn’t particularly _new_ to you in general — Jack Spheer had been somewhat of a masochist, believe it or not — but with Alex, it’s all new territory, something you two are exploring together for the first time in the entirety of your “relationship.”

 

“No touching, or else I stop,” you tell her, first and foremost, and then wait until she nods to continue. She is lying fully naked beneath you, while you still don underwear and a silk robe, the difference in exposure helping to emphasize the higher level of power that, for once, you hold tonight. “No begging, either. I will decide when you get to come, Director.”

 

“Okay,” Alex agrees, looking more turned on than you’ve ever seen her.

 

You start out with teasing touches, with fingertips just barely brushing against heated skin, trailing feather-light kisses down her jaw towards her neck. Your hands move downwards, cupping her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples roughly so that she hisses in pain, back arching, straining to get closer.

 

 _“Fuck,”_ she gasps out, a shuddering breath.

 

When your hands finally slip in between her thighs a few moments later, fingers immediately coming into contact with warm wetness, _need_ sparks hotly in your blood, settling in your stomach. You’re positively aflame with desire, but you also know that this is not about you, so you push down your own arousal and focus solely on Alex.

 

The sheets shift around you, and Alex’s hands reach up to tangle in your hair as you run your fingers through her folds, but you smack them away harshly with your free hand. ”What did I say about touching, Director?” you hiss at her, watching her pupils dilate at the demanding tone of your voice.

 

“You told me not to,” she answers, voice shakier than you expected it to be.

 

“Do you want me to stop?”

 

“No.” It comes out as a rough exhale, her skin flushed with arousal, and your eyes bore into hers.

 

“Turn over,” you demand, and she obeys you without hesitation, flipping over so that she’s lying on her stomach. “Good girl,” you whisper. The praise makes her moan softly, and you lean down and press your lips to her spine, goosebumps erupting on her skin as you kiss your way down her toned back. There are scars littered there, some almost faded completely, others rough and jagged, from years of working for the DEO. You kiss each and every one, your teeth scraping against warm flesh.

 

“Are you going to be good for me and not come until I say so?” you ask her, fingertips circling teasingly around her clit, just barely brushing over the swollen nub so that it sends shocks through Alex’s system.

 

“Yes.” Alex nods, her thighs shaking slightly from the strain of holding herself back from grinding up into your hand.

 

She's so wet that your fingers slide in easily; first one, quickly followed by a second, and as Alex’s breathy pants turn to quiet, desperate moans muffled into the pillow, you generously add a third. You thrust in quick, shallow strokes from behind, watching her face the whole time, at the way she bites down hard on her bottom lip, eyes squeezed tightly shut, gripping so hard at the bedsheets beneath her that her knuckles turn white.

 

The first harsh smack you administer to her ass seems to echo in the otherwise quiet room, and what quickly follows is a choked groan that slips past Alex’s lips. On her pale skin, there is already a pink mark in the shape of your hand forming there, and you stare at the handprint for a few moments before you give the other cheek the same treatment, causing Alex to pant heavily into the pillow.

 

She’s quieter than you had expected her to be, all soft gasps and breathy whimpers, up until the moment you curl all three of your fingers _hard_ inside of her, pressing roughly against her g-spot and dragging them against her front wall. She cries out, hips lifting off the bed, ass grinding back into you, and your hand comes down to press against her lower back, holding her to the mattress.

 

When she finally comes, it’s because you tell her to, whispering the words in her ear as your thumb comes up to press against her clit. After a few more smacks to her ass and the back of her thighs, she slumps down onto the bed, breath coming out in harsh pants, eyelids slightly drooping.

 

You can’t stop yourself from reaching down and running your hands over her ass soothingly. Her skin is warm to the touch from being spanked, the inside of her thighs sticky with her arousal, and her whole body is trembling as she comes down from her orgasm.

 

“Alex,” you call out, softly. She turns her head to look up at you through half-lidded eyes, lips parted slightly. There is blood blossoming on her bottom lip from biting down on it so hard, and you run over it with your thumb.

 

“Thank you,” she says, and from the sincerity in her voice, you know it’s not just for wiping the blood away.

 

You can feel it already, the change — like tectonic plates shifting under the Earth’s surface, unnoticeable but unspeakably profound. Alex Danvers has just put her full trust in you, Lena Luthor, and something between you has changed drastically.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Confession five: you have never been quite this terrified of anything, or anyone, before.

 

  

* * *

 

 

Several weeks pass, and you and Alex, although still occasionally hooking up, begin to drift away.

 

It’s not on purpose, of course — you’re both busy women, married to your jobs, and there is not always going to be open windows each day for rendezvous in your respective offices. You know that; but you can’t help but miss it.

 

You end up finding out from Kara that Alex is spending the next week in San Diego for a CMBE conference, one that she had only mentioned to you vaguely in passing, over post-sex coffee “dates” that you both adamantly refuse to call “dates.”

 

You _know_ it’s not on purpose, the slowly growing distance between you.

 

But for the next few days, the space between you two feels enormous.

 

The thing is, you could just call. It wouldn't be that hard, and barring that, you could always just send an email. That’s something you’re good at, sending emails. Something quick and pointless. You could write something like, _“Hello Alex, I just wanted to see how you were. Maybe we could get together for lunch or something when you get back.”_

 

It would be so easy, so simple. But in your mind, you can already see yourself dissolving. You can picture yourself caving in, writing instead something like, _“I miss you. Something here is just not right when you’re gone.”_

 

Seven days go by, and you barely sleep for any of them.

 

Finally you force yourself to leave a message on Alex’s voicemail, calling from the office when you know Alex won't be able to answer. Your voice oozing faux confidence, you start with, “Alex,” and nearly cringe at the sheer amount of obvious affection that slips out with the name, “I was hoping we could meet for lunch once you get back. I’d like to hear about your trip to San Diego.”  

 

Alex calls you back almost an hour later. At first, you can only stare at the phone and watch it ring — once, twice, three times — before you grab the phone and answer it because you’re Lena fucking Luthor, and you’re not scared of a simple phone call, especially considering there’s nothing at all to be scared of.

 

It’s been almost two weeks since you’ve heard Alex’s voice, and it feels like your lungs could possibly collapse at the sound of it coming through the phone, light and teasing. “So I’m taking this as a sign that you missed me, Luthor?”

 

 _Too much,_ you think.

 

“No, not at all,” you reply.

 

That night when she gets back from San Diego, she drives straight from the airport to your penthouse, and she doesn’t even give you time to say hello before she’s pinning you against the wall and kissing you with a certain kind of gentleness that you’ve never experienced before.

 

“For the record,” she says in between kisses, looking at you with a knowing gleam in her eye, breath warm as it brushes against your lips, “I missed you too.”

 

“Bold of you to assume I missed you, Director,” you reply. “If anything, I barely noticed your absence.”

 

“Sure, Lena,” she says, and you just roll your eyes and kiss her again to shut her up.

 

 

* * *

 

 

On Alex’s sixth month of sobriety, Kara throws a party at her apartment.

 

You know it’s a bad idea even before you arrive, but your concerns aren’t proven valid until halfway into the night when you see, out of the corner of your eye, Alex discreetly slipping out onto the balcony by herself.

 

You don’t hesitate before following her.

 

The air outside is warmer now, the last vestiges of winter having faded away as the seasons slowly transitioned back into spring, a warm breeze blowing through your hair as you step out, shutting the sliding glass door behind you. Alex is leaning over the railing, looking down at the city below, the lights seeming to reflect off her eyes. She turns around when you come to stand beside her, arms brushing against each other ever so lightly. Still, the touch sends a shock through you.

 

“Oh, hey.” Her shoulders are tense, jaw clenched. Every part of her face is _sharp,_ eyebrows furrowed, staring out into the distance.

 

“Frankly, I’m surprised Kara didn’t bake you a cake.”

 

It’s the only thing you can think of to say, and thank God it’s not the wrong thing, because Alex chuckles lightly, shaking her head. “She tries her best,” she defends her sister, lips quirked up. She gestures behind her, towards the party going on inside, “And I love her, so much, I mean… She’s supported me through all of this. It’s just that sometimes, you know, she…”

 

“Doesn’t quite understand?” you finish for her when she trails off. She nods, and you can feel her eyes shift towards you, despite not looking at her.

 

“Yeah,” she agrees, still nodding slowly. Then, after a brief pause, “Do you want to get out of here?”

 

You cock your eyebrows. “Why, Alexandra Danvers,” you chide, feigning surprise. “Are you suggesting we leave your _own_ party?” You glance inside the apartment and look back at Alex with a slowly spreading smile. “And just as Brainy is trying desperately to flirt with Nia again, as well.”

 

She rolls her eyes at you. “I think we can miss Brainy’s hundredth attempt at _that,”_ she retorts, moving past you towards the door. “Besides, the party’s almost over. Come on, we’ll go back to my place.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Somehow, you manage to slip out of the party early without many questions being thrown your way; all it took was a discreet wink from Alex at J’onn from across the room, and her telling Kara that she offered to drive you home, since she had an early morning tomorrow anyways.

 

“Oh,” Kara says, adjusting her glasses. When she glances over at you, you flash her a reassuring smile, one that she returns. “Well, okay! I’ll see you guys tomorrow?”

 

“Of course,” Alex tells her, leaning over for a hug.

 

On the way out, you think you can feel Kara’s eyes on the back of your head, but when you turn around to look, she has already turned away.

 

“Do you think she knows?” you can’t help but ask, your hand gripping Alex’s elbow as you walk.

 

Alex nearly laughs at your question, turning to you with an incredulous expression. “You think she knows about what we… about us?” she asks. “She could see us together with her own eyes and she still wouldn’t realize it.”

 

You laugh; she’s funny in her own way, even when she’s not trying to be, and you like that about her.

 

“Do you want her to know about us?” she asks then, looking over at you curiously.

 

For a long moment, you walk in silence, mulling over the question in your mind. Then, squeezing her elbow a bit, you answer, “No. Truthfully, I prefer it this way. Just us.”

 

As a Luthor, you have never had the opportunity to have anything for yourself, nor did you ever have any privacy in your life, both before and after Lex went mad. But this— this you can have to yourself. This you can keep a secret, keep wrapped up and hidden away, away from prying eyes and the inevitable scornful looks.

 

You’re allowed to have this, whatever it is you and Alex are —whether that be friends or lovers or more — and be alone with it.

 

“Yeah,” Alex says as she stops in her tracks, nearly causing you to collide with her. It’s only when you look up that you realize you’re already at her apartment complex, standing outside the gates. “Me too.”

 

You get a heavy sense of deja vu when she unlocks her apartment door and steps inside, thinking about the first time you’d been to her place. “Still haven’t watered the plant, I see,” you point out, eyebrows raised as you gesture towards the poor thing.

 

Coming up beside you, Alex laughs, running a hand through her hair, mussing it up. “God. Don’t tell Kara.”

 

“Well, of course not. It would break her heart,” you tease, earning an almost painfully guilty groan from Alex and a smack on the shoulder.

 

Then, the mood turns serious. You both fall quiet, looking at each other, and Alex leans up to press one, simple kiss to the edge of your jawline before pulling back.

 

As you look into warm brown eyes, your heart melts ever so slightly, and you want nothing more than to hold her. Keep her close forever, tucked into your side. You haven’t felt like this with anyone, not even Kara or Jack.

 

“So,” you finally break the silence. “Six months.”

 

Alex looks down, a small smile spreading across her face as she scrunches her nose up and shrugs. “It’s not that big a—“

 

“It’s amazing,” you cut her off before she can even finish her sentence, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek. Her skin is warm under your touch. “Don’t you dare minimize your accomplishment of something like this. It deserves to be celebrated— perhaps not with a party, of course,” you add, half-expecting Alex to chuckle at that.

 

But it’s then that Alex looks at you with such a vulnerable, nervous expression that you feel your own chest fill with nerves, shifting her weight slightly. “No, no, you’re right,” she agrees, nodding. “Would it… be bad if we had a private toast to celebrate?” she asks, biting down on her lip anxiously. When your eyes widen just a fraction, she hurries to clarify, “Club soda! Obviously.”

 

You roll your eyes, hiding a smile. “If you _insist,_ Director.”

 

The smile Alex gives you makes your head spin, before she heads into the other room; she’s grabbing two glasses from the top shelf of the kitchen, and you’re nervous. It's been more than three years since you met Alex Danvers, and you don’t think your heart ever stops pounding.

 

“Tell her,” you can almost hear Sam’s voice in your head, nagging, insistent. “Tell her now, or you never will.”

 

_I love you._

 

In the kitchen, Alex pours herself a glass of club soda.

 

You want so badly to say it. You _ache_ to say it. The words are sitting there on the tip of your tongue, just waiting to be said, hope and nervousness both whirling around in your chest.

 

_I love you, I love you, I love you—_

 

She pours the second glass for you, filling it almost to the rim.

 

You don’t tell her.

 

The words stay trapped inside your mouth, never coming out, and by the time she’s stepping back out on the balcony to stand beside you, they’re gone completely.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Confession six: you have had many regrets in your life. None of them have left an ache quite like this one.

 

 

* * *

 

 

There is an L-Corp gala being held the night that Kara is too busy working on an expose, and this is very much a problem, because Kara is your date to every function L-Corp has.

 

“I’m sorry, Lena,” Kara is saying, crinkle perfectly positioned in between her eyebrows, eyes full of regret. “I would come, you know that, but Snapper has been really demanding lately, I mean _way_ more demanding than usual, and I just can’t risk—”

 

“Kara, it’s okay,” you cut off her rambling before she can get too far into it, and she snaps her mouth shut with an audible click of her teeth, reaching up to fidget with her glasses. “Really, darling, I’m perfectly alright with going alone.”

 

“Maybe you don’t have to!” Kara exclaims, and you nearly get whiplash from the sudden change in her mood, the excitement in her voice. “You can take Alex!”

 

The suggestion feels like she just poured a bucket of ice water over you. You blink at her, half-expecting a, “Just kidding!” to follow her offer, but nothing like that comes. Instead, she stares at you with an expectant expression, smile so wide that part of you is afraid it’s going to split her whole face in half. “You guys are friends, right?”

 

Right. Friends. Friends who just happen to regularly give each other orgasms.

 

“I suppose we—”

 

“I’ll text Alex right now! I keep telling her she needs to get out more anyways, so this’ll be a great opportunity for her to get out of her office, and…”

 

Her voice begins to fade away as your attention drifts elsewhere, towards the idea of spending the whole night with Alex as your date, and it’s only when you start to calculate the probability of Alex punching a businessman in the face by the end of the night that you hear Kara’s next words.

 

“Great! She says she’ll do it. She can finally wear that suit I bought her for her birthday a few months ago!”

 

Your head whips up to look at Kara, heart stuttering in your chest at the visual your brain provides you with, hoping to any God up there that Kara doesn’t notice your suddenly irregular heartbeat. Thankfully if she does, she says nothing, and you let yourself relax for the moment.

 

“Well, I’m going to go help her get ready for tonight,” Kara tells you, leaning over you wrap you in a tight hug. When she pulls away, you swear you see her wink at you, but before you can question it, she’s already flown out of your office’s balcony window.

 

Five minutes later, when your phone buzzes, you don’t even need to look at the contact name to know who it is that’s texting you.

 

 _“See you tonight, Luthor ;)”_ it reads, and somehow, you can practically hear the smugness through the screen.

 

 _“Don’t expect me to drool over you, Director,”_ is what you send back, with barely a minute passing before she texts you back, the reply nothing but three simple winky face emoticons.

 

In the end, you don’t end up drooling, but you’re not too proud to admit that your jaw does drop a little bit when Alex comes out of her apartment complex in a navy blue suit jacket with a corset underneath, striding towards the car in five inch heels to match.

 

In your mind, you make a note to text Kara later to thank her for the suit on Alex’s behalf.

 

“How do I look?” she asks when she approaches the car, sliding into the backseat next to you as your driver shuts the door behind her. When you don’t answer right away, she smirks, looking pleased with herself. “Wow. Have I rendered _the_ Lena Luthor speechless?”

 

“You look breathtaking,” you tell her, ignoring her teasing. You’re surprised to see red tint her cheeks at the compliment, her eyes taking you in as well, growing slightly darker when they linger for a few seconds on your chest.

 

“Well, you don’t look so bad yourself,” she replies, voice suddenly lower in pitch, husky with arousal.

 

You stop her right there, holding up a hand and narrowing your eyes. “No. You are _not_ going to try and fuck me at my own gala, Alex. We’re going to arrive and be professional, and I am going to discuss business and funding with other companies, and _you_ are going to behave yourself until we can be alone.”

 

Alex nods. “Understood.”

 

You know from the wicked grin that spreads across her face that she does not, in fact, understand.

 

 

* * *

 

 

You barely make it an hour into the event.

 

Alex is leading you away from everyone else as soon as there’s a lull in the conversation, practically dragging you down the hall near one of the janitorial closets, and you’re struggling to hurry in your heels. As soon as you’re inside, she’s pushing you against the door and kissing you roughly, smearing your lipstick and mussing up your perfectly styled hair.

 

When she moves her lips down to your neck, you huff indignantly at her, cheeks hot. “Alex, this is _not_ what we agreed—”

 

“I’m sorry, you just— You look so _sexy_ in this dress,” Alex growls into the side of your neck, teeth tugging lightly on your earlobe as her hands wander down, down, down, gripping your hips tightly, moving back to grab and squeeze your ass through the fabric. “I’ve wanted to rip it off you all night. I couldn’t wait.”

 

“Alex,” you hiss, glaring at her; but only half-heartedly. “Now is not the time.”

 

“Then why aren’t you pushing me away?” Alex inquires, leveling you with a challenging look as you purse your lips, silent. She smirks at your lack of response, eyes dark and gleaming with desire. “That’s what I thought. Come on, I’ll be quick, and no one will even notice we’re gone.”

 

“Oh? And what if someone happens to walk by and hear us?“

 

“Please, you think anyone in that room is going to step away from their free champagne and boring conversations to wander over here?” Alex scoffs, her fingers gliding further up your thigh from beneath your dress. You inhale sharply as they reach their destination, swiftly tugging your underwear to the side. “Besides, you’d probably like that, wouldn’t you?”

 

“What do you take me as?” you snap, raising a sharp brow at her even as Alex’s fingers tease your clit.

 

“I take you as someone who is thoroughly enjoying this,” Alex counters, dipping her fingers inside and gathering your wetness, “I mean, as far as I can tell.”

 

You roll your eyes at her. Your nails dig into her shoulder, clutching at the fabric of her suit as she leans down and scatters light kisses along your throat, teeth scraping against your collarbone and leaving light pink marks that you know you’re going to scold her for later. “You’re being cocky again, Director,” you point out.

 

“And yet you love it,” Alex whispers against your skin, as two fingers slide inside of you with practiced ease. You gasp as she immediately starts a fast, brutal pace, her thumb pressing against your clit as she thrusts inside you.

 

You hate to admit that she’s right.

 

Your orgasm catches you surprise — you’ve never been able to come this quickly, especially somewhere so public, but tonight, it seems that is no longer the case. You come quietly, clutching at Alex and muffling moans into her shoulder, gasping as her fingers slip out of you.

 

When you look up at her, you come face to face with a shit-eating grin, the smugness rolling off her in waves. “Oh, be quiet.”

 

“But I didn’t say anything,” she argues, eyes crinkling at the edges.

 

“No,” you agree, “but your face certainly did. Now be quiet.”

 

Alex just laughs. _Infuriating,_ you think, and fall just a little bit more in love with her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

But then—

 

Things fall apart, as they so often do.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When you were twelve years old, Lillian grounded you for kissing another girl — a classmate of yours from private school — and took everything you owned away from you. You spent the rest of the semester with practically nothing, but at the time, it did not seem like a cruel, unfair punishment so much as it felt like something that _had_ to happen to you, simply because of who you were.

 

“Anything you ever have in life,” Lillian had told you with a sneer, eyes harder than they ever were when she looked at Lex, “will be taken from you at some point. You must understand that right now.”

 

It’s something that has followed you throughout your entire life, heavily ingrained in your mind from your early teen years, and it mostly came true. After all, you have lost most of what you had — your biological mother, Jack, _Lex._ They have all left you, hurt and abandoned, in different ways. You are not someone who is meant to stay happy, and you know this.

 

And yet— somehow, it had never occurred to you that Alex, too, could be taken from you.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It starts like a this:

 

A phone call pulling you away from your work in the middle of the night, Kara’s voice on the other line, rough and panic-stricken, and three words that make your heart sink deep into the pit of your stomach.

 

_Alex is hurt._

 

 

* * *

 

 

They take her to National City Hospital, the DEO medbay having received some of the damage in the attack, and you feel sick as you walk under the bright fluorescent lights, your heels clacking loudly against the tiled floor.

 

As soon as you see Kara sitting in the waiting room, clad in her regular clothes rather than her Supergirl suit, her head whips up, red-rimmed eyes blinking hard from under her glasses. “Lena!” She nearly collapses into your arms, her body weak and trembling, and you hold her tight against you.

 

“How is she?” you ask, your voice shakier than you thought it’d be.

 

“She just got out of surgery. They said she’s going to be okay, but I—“ she chokes on her words, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen Kara so distraught. “Rao, Lena, I thought I lost her. She was losing _so much_ blood, but I blew out my powers and couldn’t—“

 

There’s an image that flashes briefly behind your eyelids, of Alex lying in the rubble of the DEO, her uniform stained crimson.

 

You push it all away and focus on Kara. “Kara, darling,” you pull away and cup her face in your hands. Her cheeks are wet with tears, and you wipe them away with your thumbs. “She’s alright. You haven’t lost her. _We_ haven’t.”

 

Kara nods, sniffling. You wipe the rest of the stray tears from her face and smile softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I should get back to her,” she says, looking towards Alex’s room.

 

“Okay,” you say, and watch her retreating form before taking a seat against the wall yourself. Around the waiting room, you can see everyone who cares about Alex sitting around as well, all expressions made of varying degrees of nervousness and relief. J’onn, Brainy, even James — they’re all here, waiting anxiously to see her, just like you.

 

Kara comes out just thirty minutes later, and you rise when she approaches you. “Alex kicked me out,” she says, and when your eyebrows shoot up, she sighs heavily. Tiredly. “She won’t let me come back until I spend the night under the sun lamps.”

 

“I’ll call you if anything happens,” you assure her, and receive a grateful smile in return.

 

Kara hugs you before she goes, and then, as she’s pulling on her coat, looks back at you. “She was asking for you.”

 

It’s the last thing she says before she retreats down the hall and disappears around the corner, and you’re left to stare after her, your heart in your throat.

 

 _Okay._ You can do this. You’re Lena Luthor.

 

When you walk into the room, Alex is propped up against the pillows on her bed, paler than you’ve ever seen her. There’s gauze around her head and her left arm is wrapped in bandages as well. She’s hooked up to both an IV and a blood bag, and you have to look away from _that_ particular sight as your stomach churns.

 

“Lena. You came.”

 

Your name escapes past her lips as a mere whisper, but one that is so full of fondness that you feel your knees weaken slightly. “Of course I came,” you say as you come to a stop beside her bed. “Did you expect otherwise?”

 

“No, I just…” She shakes her head, eyes darting from your face to her lap. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

 

“What exactly happened?” you can’t help but ask, despite knowing you may not want to hear the answer.

 

Alex winces as she sits up a bit. “There was… an incident at the DEO, something that could’ve easily been prevented. A rookie left one of the cells unlocked on accident, one of our aliens escaped, and, well… It wasn’t pretty. Three of my agents were injured in the attack.”

 

Upon seeing the look on your face, she frowns deeply, her forehead creasing. “Hey… Are you okay?”

 

“Am _I_ okay?” you demand as you stare down at her, incredulous. “God, you idiot. You absolute _fool._ If you weren’t already hurt, I’d smack you.”

 

Alex smiles at that. “Sorry.”

 

“I am perfectly fine while you are the one laying in a hospital bed, and you have the gall ask _me_ —“  

 

“Lena,” Alex interrupts your rant, no longer smiling; rather, her face is twisted up in pain. You snap your mouth shut with an audible click, feeling something in you break as you watch her.  She fumbles for one of the buttons near her hand, pressing hard on it and leaning her head back against the pillows.

 

“Morphine,” she says, and you nod slowly, the back of your eyes burning. “It's a godsend.”

 

You swallow, throat suddenly dry after seeing Alex in pain. Luckily, it doesn’t take long for the drugs to kick in. You can see the way her eyes become less focused, and you can tell she’s struggling to stay awake.

 

“Can you get me another blanket?” she asks you after a few minutes, gesturing weakly towards the corner of the room, where a cotton blanket is neatly folded on one of the large chairs.

 

“Thank you,” Alex mumbles, as you are draping the extra blanket over her body. Then there’s a hand on your wrist, stopping you from moving away. And then, so quiet you almost don’t hear it, “I love you.”

 

You freeze, your fingers suddenly clutching so hard at the blanket that you feel your hands begin to shake. You look down at Alex with wide eyes before you shake yourself out of it a moment later, clearing your throat and ripping your arm out of her grasp.

 

Then you swallow, so hard that you’re sure Alex can see the movement in your throat. “Excuse me?” you ask, wondering if you’d heard her correctly.

 

You did. “I love you,” Alex repeats. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it, during the attack, and how I— how I needed to tell you before—”

 

“Alex. You’re high on pain medication,” you remind her with a small, forced smile, trying to fight against the sudden, hot burning in your chest. This cannot be true. She isn’t supposed to love you back, because things like this never end with happily ever afters, especially for someone like _you_.

 

Things like this only ever fall apart. She can’t love you back.

 

You turn away, focusing on the steady beeping of the heart monitor, on the IV bag, anything to avoid looking at her — but Alex only has eyes for you. You can feel them, following every movement you make. “You’re high,” you say again, harsher this time, like you’re trying to convince yourself more than Alex. Perhaps you are. “And you have no idea what you’re saying. You’re high on morphine.”

 

“Nope,” Alex shakes her head insistently, gazing up at you with glazed-over eyes. “I’ll still love you when I’m not.”

 

“Alex…” It comes out quiet, almost defeated, something you rarely let others see you as. Your skin is on fire, a harsh, unbearable burning behind your eyes, and there’s a lump in your throat that’s growing bigger with each passing second.

 

Her eyes droop just a bit, her breathing beginning to even out more. You hope that she won’t remember any of this in the morning.

 

“Get some sleep, honey,” is the only thing you can say, and you finish draping the blanket over her body before you turn to go. Your knees are so weak you’re afraid you might collapse in the middle of the hospital room.

 

“Stay?” she calls out, just as you reach the doorway. She’s slurring her words now. “There’s enough room.”

 

Technically, you shouldn’t be sharing a bed. There’s tubes and wires connected to Alex that you should try not to disturb, and not only that, but you don’t know if your heart will be able to take it.

 

“Alex,” you say again, going to refuse, but then you stop yourself. There’s a vulnerability in her eyes that you have never seen before, not like this, and she’s pouting — actually _pouting,_ you can’t believe it — and, well, you’d be a monster to say no.

 

“Alright,” you sigh, something breaking inside you as you walk back towards her and climb onto the hospital bed. “Alright, sweetie, I’ll stay.”

 

 

* * *

 

  

Confession seven: crawling into bed with her, you can’t help but think you’re merely setting yourself up for heartbreak; the worst part is, you’d probably let her break your heart a thousand times over if it meant getting to love her each time.

 

  

* * *

 

  

Alex’s arm is draped over your stomach, and you can hardly breathe.

 

You could have never guessed that Alex Danvers, badass Director of the DEO, is a cuddler.  She’s sleeping soundly, curled up under the blankets, her heartbeat steady and her breathing soft.

 

“Alex,” you whisper, attempting to stir her awake. When she doesn’t budge, seemingly too content with clinging to you like a koala, you sigh. You nudge her a bit, carefully so you don’t hurt her, trying to get her to move. It's to no avail, of course; Alex only sighs in her sleep, grumbling a bit from being disturbed, and you quickly decide that it's just not worth the effort at two o'clock in the morning.

 

Her breath is warm on your neck, and with your free hand you stroke the side of her face gently, tracing a finger along her jawline; sharp, but oh so smooth. There's a few strands hair over her eyes and you brush it away, hovering over a laceration above her eyebrow.

  
It only takes a few moments before Alex, as if sensing your eyes on her, shifts on the bed and looks at you through half-closed eyes. "What's wrong?" she mumbles, still slurring her words slightly, her voice hoarse with sleep.

 

“Nothing,” you lie right through your teeth. “I have to use the bathroom.”

 

Thankfully, you learn that half-asleep Alex is not as observant and suspicious as fully-awake Alex. Shutting her eyes again, she mumbles something unintelligible under her breath as she rolls over, the warmth of her body clinging to yours immediately leaving you.

 

The floor beneath your bare feet is cold as you slip out of bed and  shuffle across the room, quiet so as not to continue to disturb Alex too much. You blink away the burning in your eyes as you flick on the light in the bathroom, shutting the heavy door behind you. There’s a mirror above the sink and your reflection stares back at you, makeup slightly smudged, eyes bloodshot.

 

 _I love you,_ Alex had said, and you know she couldn’t have possibly meant it, because, well, how could she? Someone like _Alex_ surely couldn’t love someone like _you._

 

There’s a tight, clenching feeling in your chest, and the sudden, desperate need to get out of there has you in a vice-like grip. You need to leave, get out of this hospital room and away from Alex, and you feel dizzy as you wrench open the bathroom door and gather your things.

 

Your stomach is in knots the whole way home.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“So you just _left?”_

 

You internally groan at the disbelieving tone of Sam’s voice in your ear, reaching up to rub your eyes. Through the windows of your penthouse you can see the sun beginning to rise, painting the sky in beautiful a pink-purple hue, but you’re much too tired and distracted to fully appreciate it.

 

“Yes, Samantha,” you snap. “I left. What else was I to do?”

 

Sam scoffs. “Oh, I don’t know, waited for her to wake up? _Not_ leave her in the hospital bed in the middle of the night because you don’t know how to process normal human emotions?”

 

Over the years, there have been many, many occasions where you have questioned why you’re still friends with Samantha Arias. Now is one of those times.

 

“Isn’t this a good thing?” Sam continues to talk in your ear, and you burrow further into your sheets, partly wishing they could swallow you whole. “Alex told you she loved you, Lena, I don’t understand why that’s—”

 

“Because she couldn’t have meant it!” you cut her off sharply. “She was high on medication and she couldn’t have possibly known what she was talking about.”

 

“Her being on morphine has nothing to do with how she feels about you,” Sam argues. “Do you really think Alex Danvers would spill her guts out about something like that if it wasn’t true?”

 

No. She absolutely wouldn’t.

 

“Listen, all I’m saying is that maybe you should’ve stayed, you know? Waited until she wasn’t so hopped up on pain meds to see for yourself that she’s not lying about what she told you. Seriously, Lena, is it really that far-fetched that Alex could love you back? You two have been hooking up for months now.”

 

You blow out a harsh breath. “Why must you always be the voice of reason, Samantha?”

 

“Because if I’m not, then who will?” Sam responds, the smile evident in her voice. “Now go back to that hospital and talk to her before I come to National City and drag you over there myself.”

 

“I must say, that is an extremely tempting offer,” you retort.

 

Sam hangs up on you without even bothering with a goodbye.

 

In the end, you don’t go back to the hospital that day, your schedule packed with meetings and conference calls with hardly any break in between. You’re stuck at L-Corp for the entire day, the heavy work load only partially helping to distract you from your thoughts, but your mind always ends up drifting back to Alex and what she had said.

 

You run the words through your head over and over again: _I love you. I love you. I love you._

 

You have never thought that there would be a universe where someone like Alex Danvers loved you; and while you have lost many people and many things throughout your life, you have never thought that you’d have _this much_ to lose.

 

  

* * *

 

 

Kara and Eliza are sitting in Alex’s hospital room when you walk in, the latter sitting in the large chair in the corner while Kara sits directly beside Alex’s bed, holding her hand.

 

All three of them look up when you walk in, and you clear your throat awkwardly. You’ve spoken in front of hundreds of people before, and yet standing here in front of Alex’s family is the more daunting than any of your previous speeches.

 

“Lena?” Kara rises from her chair, frowning in confusion. From the bed, Alex doesn’t tear her eyes away from you, mouth slightly agape as though she wishes to say something but can’t. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I came to speak with Alex,” you answer, your voice fortunately coming out as confident and smoothly as you’d hoped it would. You look past Kara towards the woman in question, heart pounding. “Of course, only if she’ll let me.”

 

“Alexandra, what is this about?” Eliza asks from her spot in the corner, her eyes darting between you and Alex like she’s trying to connect the dots in her head.

 

While Kara’s frown only deepens at your reply, Alex inhales sharply. “Mom, it’s fine. You and Kara go down to the cafeteria, okay? I know neither of you have eaten all evening.”

 

You can feel both their eyes on you as they pass by, but you keep your gaze focused only on Alex until the door shuts behind you, and you are alone. You can feel your heart pounding in every pulse point as you take Kara’s abandoned seat next to Alex’s bed. There’s hesitance in the way you reach forward, towards Alex’s hand. Your fingertips brush against hers first, waiting to see if she responds to your touch or pulls her hand away.

 

When it’s the former, you let your fingers slide in between hers, interlocked. “I shouldn’t have left,” you begin, averting your eyes from Alex’s own gaze as you search for the right words to say. “And I should have let myself hear you out, rather than accusing you of only saying… what you said… because you were on pain medication.”

 

Your heart is in your throat as you raise your eyes to meet Alex’s once again, gauging her reaction. Her expression is one of complete seriousness, eyebrows furrowed, lips slightly pursed in thought. Behind her bed, her heartbeat monitor beeps in a consistent rhythm, steadily, and it serves to calm your nerves a bit, just enough for you to breathe normally.

 

“I shouldn’t have said what I did last night,” is what comes out of Alex’s mouth, and immediately, your heart travels from your throat to the bottom of your stomach in less than a second, a dull ache in the back of your skull. “You’re right, I was high on morphine, and I wasn’t thinking—”

 

You rip your hand from hers and stand, so abruptly that the chair nearly tips over. Blood roars in your ears, and you can’t believe you had let Sam convince you that perhaps, against all odds, Alex could have meant what she said.

 

“Alright,” you say, face hotter than it’s ever been. “Well, if that’s all, then—”

 

“I didn’t want to tell you that way!” Alex finishes, reaching out for you once more, trying to grasp at your hand.

 

“You—” Your brain, no matter how much of a genius you are when it comes to science and technology, struggles to process the simple string of words that Alex is saying.

 

“I meant what I said,” Alex tells you, and there’s something in her eyes that gives you no choice but to believe her. “I just… shouldn’t have told you that way. Or at all, probably.” She screws her face up, shaking her head and looking away from you. “Honestly, I— I guess I just got tired of keeping it inside. And I know this ruins what we have, the whole ‘no strings attached’ type deal, and if you want to stop then I completely understand.”

 

You blink at her. _Stop?_ Why would you _ever_ want to stop?

 

And then you realize—

 

“Well,” you say, voice suddenly quiet, “It seems that we are both hopeless at recognizing when the other person possesses feelings, Director.”

 

When Kara and Eliza walk in a few minutes later, you’re both too busy laughing to notice them, until Kara steps up beside Alex’s bed and frowns. “Uh— what’d we miss?”

 

The question does nothing but make you both laugh harder.

 

 

* * *

 

 

You wake up earlier than usual one Saturday morning, to bright sunlight streaming through the curtains of Alex’s apartment windows.

 

The first thing you notice is that she isn't wearing pants but is wearing the shirt that she'd ripped off of you the night before, the sleeves rolled up and the shirt unbuttoned to reveal the black lacy bra you vaguely remember tossing over the couch in the living room. She’s swaying her hips in time with the song you can hear her humming softly, the smell of frying butter filling the kitchen.

 

It has only been almost six months since Alex’s admission to you in the hospital, and the thought of being in love with someone no longer scares you as much as it used to.

 

“That smells good,” you mumble, coming up behind her in front of the stove. You wrap your arms around Alex’s torso and peer over her shoulder, smiling softly as she automatically leans back into your touch. “And what kind of pancakes are those?”

 

“Post-sex pancakes for that orgasm-induced hunger you’re probably feeling,” Alex answers without skipping a beat, and immediately your face and neck are burning at the forwardness, however you’re not surprised in the slightest. You hum, and she turns around in your arms, spatula still in her hand.

 

“Hi,” she breathes out, smile soft as she looks at you.

 

“Hello,” you say. Then, “The pancakes are burning.”

 

“Shit!” Alex exclaims, but when she tries to turn back around in your arms, you keep her from doing so.

 

“I’m sure they would have tasted amazing, sweetie,” you tell her, right before you lean forward and press your lips against hers. They’re warm and pliant against your own despite the situation going on behind you, and you hear the spatula clatter on the ground as Alex’s hands go to your waist automatically.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Confession eight: you, like most sane people, have never been a fan of burnt pancakes; but you think you could get used to it.


End file.
